


when we were not misunderstood

by freezerjerky



Series: lead me back to you [3]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: (it's weed again), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Reconciliation, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 18:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15516303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freezerjerky/pseuds/freezerjerky
Summary: Newt’s used to this part of his new life. They bicker. They insult each other. It’s sort of like being an old married couple, only they’ve completely skipped past all the parts Newt actually wants out of being married. In some awful self-fulfilling prophecy, it’s Newt’s disdain for Hermann that has tied them together for life, making them already an amusement around the Shatterdome. They’re the weird scientists who fight a lot.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The conclusion of the "lead me back to you" series. It's best to read parts 1 and 2 to understand context! 
> 
> Obviously while much research was done, some canon instances/timing/locations have been changed for the sake of the fic and other fics in the series
> 
> There are no Lyfts in this fic, so if you're here for the Lyfts, I am sorry to say this is not the fic for you.

_ 2020 _

As far as assignments go, the Hong Kong Shatterdome is a pretty sweet one. Mostly, Newt is eager to feel like a valuable part of the PPDC and to really prove himself. He wants to be in the middle of the action and to experience everything he can firsthand. There are things he’s not looking forward to, like being stuck in a very small room or having limited rations of beer and cigarettes. He’ll get over these things soon enough because now that he’s here, he’s going to be a rockstar. Or a really good scientist, but those things aren’t mutually exclusive.

After he’s shoved his duffle into his rather small, sort of smelly, and very dreary room, he’s given a tour of the Shatterdome. Not that he couldn’t figure it out himself, but he wants to feel solidarity with the other members of the research team, even if Dr. Stuffy Pants who shows him around is not the most exciting person around. (It’s probably not good of him to misremember anyone’s name- these are the only people he’ll have much of a chance to see for the foreseeable future.)

Primarily, he’s excited to see the lab space he’ll be working in. It’s exciting to have his own space to work and honestly he plans to spend more time there than anywhere else. Especially because this job finally means he can work with moderate quality kaiju samples. Who knows, he might even manage  _ good _ samples in time. Dr. Stuffy Pants concludes the tour with the lab, of course, after he’s seen the mess hall, a long series of dormitory-like spaces, Loccent, and just about everything that has little to no interest to Newt at the moment.

“We, of course, do not have the funding for you to have your space entirely to yourself,” Dr. Stuffy Pants explains. “But we’ve put you with our other new scientist. You’re in very different lines of work, so you shouldn’t disturb each other too much here.”

The lab has a rather large chalkboard at the back and there’s already a man diligently working on some outlandishly long formula at the board, three steps up on a ladder. It looks like a whole other language to Newt.

“This will work just fine, thanks,” Newt says, glancing around the room. LIke most of the Shatterdome, it’s grey and dreary but once he’s got his things about it’ll look as fun as he can make it.

The man at the chalkboard freezes, his chalk clattering to the floor. Newt jogs over, leaning down to retrieve the chalk as a favor. Might as well start this working relationship off on the right foot.

“He-Holy Shit.” Newt’s eyes go wide and he drops the newly retrieved piece of chalk.

Before he can say anything more, Dr. Stuffy Pants (Simons, Newt’s mind supplies, his name is Simons) is standing by him.

“Dr. Geiszler, this is Dr. Gottlieb. You’ll be sharing the lab here,” Simons begins. “You’re both German and spent some time in Boston, so I’m sure you’ll have a good deal in common.”

Newt glances around the room as if he’s being pranked, though he’s not sure by whom. No one could possibly be this cruel. This could go one of many ways, and Newt’s first choice is to run screaming in the other direction. Instead, he extends his hand for a handshake. Hermann takes it and shakes it, immediately withdrawing his hand.

“We’ve met,” Hermann answers coolly. “We used to correspond, a few years prior, about our work,” he explains as he climbs down the ladder.

“Excellent. Then that will do away with all the awkwardness of strangers sharing a space,” Simons says smugly.

Newt just has to cut in then, to save himself from a worse awkwardness. “No, you see Hermann-”

“Dr. Gottlieb,” Hermann corrects quickly.

“Dr. Gottlieb and I do not get along,” Newt continues. “At all.”

Simons narrows his eyes. “Gentlemen, we are at war. Surely you can work something out to work peacefully together.”

“I don’t think you understand,” Newt states firmly. He honestly can’t give an answer that doesn’t sound ridiculous and immature.  _ He broke my heart. Twice. Last time I saw him, I stormed off and said I never wanted to hear from him again. I told him I loved him and he stomped all over my feelings for him like a bastard. No, not like a bastard.  _ “He’s a complete and utter bastard.”

“Geiszler, working at this Shatterdome is a privilege,” Simons warns.

“Right, because there’s that many biologists with a specialty related to kaiju out there. I forgot about the excess of xenobiologists out in the world.”

“Newton,” this time it’s Hermann who gives the warning. Newt sees red for a moment. “I would not want a past disagreement to impact your future. I promise you will hardly notice me here.”

Hermann grabs a cane that’s been resting against the chalkboard and moves towards his workbench, a tidy space that he’s clearly just moved to himself. Newt swallows hard when he observes Hermann’s gait as he walks. Pity would be an absurd feeling to feel in that moment, and far from what Hermann would want anyone to feel. No, he feels a strange sense of regret that he’s missed changes yet again.

“I’ll leave you to become reacquainted,” Simons says. “Most everyone will be eating dinner at six.”

As he leaves the room, Newt makes a show of shafting him behind his back. When he turns back, Hermann is sat at his work bench, sipping from a large cup of tea.

“I suppose we should have prepared for this eventuality,” Hermann says.

Newt finds his own seat, a chair with wheels that will come in handy in all the wrong ways, he’s sure. “I’d sort of assumed the universe would do me a favor and keep me away from you forever, like I’d asked it to.”

“You do such a good job at maturely masking your disdain, Newton. It’s been three years, you need to learn to act like a thirty year old, not a child.”

This earns a rather dramatic eye roll. “I typically don’t let the people who hurt me dictate how I am allowed to feel in a situation.”

“I’m not telling you how to feel. I’m telling you how to behave to keep the job you’ve just received, which I know you’ve worked very hard for and rightfully deserve.”

“Just so we’re clear, I hate that you’re making a good point.”

“I can live with that.” Hermann takes a sip of his tea and turns to his desk to do some work.

Newt  decides that if this is the hand he’s been dealt, he might as well become familiar with his lab space and find ways to either avoid or annoy Hermann. He just hasn’t decided which of the approaches he’ll find more satisfactory.

 

It’s easiest, in those first few weeks, to just pretend Hermann’s a relative stranger he’s just happened to take a dislike to. At this point, he’s got six years distance from the man he was in love with, so if he keeps Hermann very firmly at an arm’s length, there’s no way he can discover if the man he’s stuck with is even the same. Judging by Hermann’s demeanor, keeping the distance is what he prefers, anyway. For everyone.

Newt’s taken the time to build a friendly rapport with as many people as he can, even if he’s certain most of them find him annoying. He doesn’t need real or substantial friendships, just people willing to humor him by listening every now and then and maybe to share a drink when they can manage to take the time for one. (Or to find someone who has a stash they’re willing to share.)

He loves the bustle of his new life, how he’s always busy and always helping. This doesn’t mean that he doesn’t find himself often sneaking off to find some quiet space on his own. Today it’s outside, in a remote corner near the loading dock while he waits for a new shipment to come in. He’s perched on some crates, smoking a contraband cigarette, knowing full well his viscera is not scheduled to arrive for another half an hour. He frowns deeply when he spots Hermann’s now familiar gait in the distance. If he’s spotted, Hermann will likely scold him for taking a break when he’s needed in the lab, then complain when he’s in the lab for listening to music loudly or being messy or any of a long list of growing concerns. 

When Hermann approaches, he attempts to dissipate the tension by offering his half smoked cigarette.

“I’m on the patch,” Hermann remarks. “You’ve been on break for half an hour and I know for a fact that kidney isn’t arriving for another twenty five minutes.”

“You sucked me down the rabbit hole of tobacco addiction and then had the nerve to go on the patch,” Newt says dramatically.

“I don’t think a shared cigarette three years ago made you a smoker.” Hermann rolls his eyes. “You’re not supposed to have that anyway.”

“Do you know how many people here smoke? Plenty.”

“That doesn’t mean that you have to.”

Newt shrugs. “I give in easily to peer pressure.” He pauses. “You do know that they’re cutting funding to us, right? I mean, we’re going to be one of the first ones hit. With any luck, you won’t be stuck with me anymore. And I won’t be stuck with you.”

“There are worse things than being stuck with you, Newton.”

Newt snorts dramatically at that.

“Well, that’s the lucky solution, anyway,” Newt continues. “I think they’ll keep us around, because we’re the only people in the research department stupid enough to keep working for how little they’re paying us. That’s why they’ve got us locked up in that lab together.”

“I’ll keep working until the war is lost or won.”

“It’s going to be lost if they think building a wall’s going to do anything.” Newt hops off of the crate, tossing his cigarette to the ground. “That idea has America written all over it.”

“I was hoping I could talk to you about something else, besides the dim prospect for humanity.”

“Hermann, dude. We’re not talking about anything that is not related to work. That’s just how this works. We go to work in the morning. You look like you’ve got a stick up your ass, I look like I didn’t sleep, because I didn’t. Then, we do work, you yell at me for my awesome taste in music or because you stepped on some kaiju bits, we eat dinner, we go to our separate rooms.”

“It’s been three years.”

“You know, that’s fair.” Newt runs a hand through his hair. “I did, uh, spend three years hung up on someone not worth my time, and it’s been three years since then, so now I can just pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I don’t believe it’s my fault  you spent three years ‘hung up’ on anyone, Newton. If you wanted to know my intentions, all you had to do was ask.”

“Bullshit,” Newt mutters. He knows Hermann’s right, though. Maybe not during the final incident, but at any point during their exchange of letters, he could have just asked. He was just too afraid to receive the answer he didn’t want, and he proved the point spectacularly well by how he reacted when that was the answer he was given. Maybe, the thought registers dimly in the back of his mind, if he’d given Hermann time to process everything, the answer would have been different.

He doesn’t think about this, though, instead he tries to think cool rockstar scientist thoughts. He needs to get laid, maybe, to get his mind off of someone who’s not worth the time or energy.

 

One of the worst things about Hermann being back in his life is that Newt dreams about him. It would be easy enough to handle if they were just sexy dreams or abstract dreams, but in his dreams they’re always in his old car, heading to some unknown place. Dream Hermann will scold him or argue with him most of the time, but sometimes they laugh or talk pleasantly. Sometimes dream Hermann rests a hand on dream Newt’s thigh and they don’t say anything as they drive off into the metaphorical sunset.

Depending on the nature of the dream, it makes work the next day awkward. He’s often still riding on the residual high of a good dream or angry about a conversation he’s never had, or hasn’t had for over half a decade. The anger is the easier of the two emotions to cope with, though.

After a disgustingly pleasant dream, he’s thankful to step into the lab with Hermann already eagerly tapping away with his chalk. They don’t greet each other usually, so if he can slide into his workspace and work without too much of a mess, everything will work out just fine. In fact, he gets too accustomed to the relative silence and starts singing aloud as he works, wheeling his chair dramatically for good measure across the lab floor.

“Newton,” Hermann warns, turning to glance at him.

“I know you like The Black Keys, Hermann.”

“Like is a very strong word when the song in question is sung by you.”

Newt’s used to this part of his new life. They bicker. They insult each other. It’s sort of like being an old married couple, only they’ve completely skipped past all the parts Newt actually wants out of being married. In some awful self-fulfilling prophecy, it’s Newt’s disdain for Hermann that has tied them together for life, making them already an amusement around the Shatterdome. They’re the weird scientists who fight a lot.

“I used to be in a band before you met me, if you remember,” Newt defends, dramatically brandishing the scalpel currently in his hand.

“Yes, and they asked you to leave the band because you were very bad at singing. I thought we didn’t acknowledge the fact that we met prior to our letters.”

“We don’t. It still technically occurred before we met, and I have mentioned it to you before, two weeks ago when you insulted my taste in music.”

Playing pretend like this can be challenging, admittedly. Newt knows too much about Hermann’s past that there’s no possible way anyone in such poor standing with him could know. The same can likely be said about the inverse, but Newt is much more forthcoming with information about his life. Everyone knows his favorite bands or his opinions on the best movies of his childhood. Meanwhile, he’s had to give at least three separate people Hermann’s first name to fill out paperwork.

The Hermann he had first met was not like this, not completely. Sure, he was always a bit withdrawn and had a very biting wit, but he was very rarely outright mean to someone and shared parts of himself piece by piece. It was part of the reward of being close to the man. This is Hermann under stress and maybe something else that he doesn’t dare to name. Hermann forfeit his right to claim that as a sorrow in his life.

Newt returns to his work, slicing into a sample with precision. Even the most precise cuts on the sample of something unknown, though, can lead to disaster and something rather aggressively green spurts out at him, landing square on his jeans.

“Shit, fuck,” he exclaims, shooting up from his seat. Hastily, he snaps off his gloves and then immediately starts to strip out of his clothes, tossing them into a pile to be decontaminated or destroyed.

“Newton, what are you doing?” Hermann wastes no time in climbing down his perch on the ladder and moving over to him. 

“I got some- I’m not really sure what on me,” he answers as he’s standing in the middle of the lab in nothing but boxer briefs, one sock, and his tie. “Didn’t want it burning completely through my skin.”

“Are you hurt?” Hermann asks, but his tone is more clinical than comforting.

Newt immediately notices that Hermann’s staring in the general vicinity of his lower half and has opened his mouth to shout at him, when he realizes precisely what Hermann is looking at.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Newt mutters. “I just haven’t gotten around to getting it removed yet.” He leans under his workbench for the spare clothes he keeps stored there.

“I merely was going to say that I thought you couldn’t get a tattoo in poorer taste, and then I noticed that you’re clearly in the midst of an extensive kaiju groupie tattoo.”

Digging through the items, Newt rolls his eyes anyway before he pulls out a t-shirt and jeans, making quick work fo changing into them.

“I like my new tattoo, thank you. Before long it’s going to be tattoo everywhere, on my top half at least.”

He catches sight of Hermann then, and the softest wistful look on his face, like there’s something he so badly wants to say.

“Do you think that’s a wise choice?” Hermann says instead, and turns back to his chalkboard.

“I think it’s my body and I’m doing what I want with it, so.” He shafts Hermann behind his back. This is a far too common occurrence in his life.

 

After a few months, they’re told to stay out of the lab over the weekend for the cleaning crew to scrub the lab clean. Admittedly, it probably should be done more often given Newt’s tendency towards mess, but he’s glad it doesn’t happen all too often because his work is just about the best thing in his life. 

The problem is, everyone else is working that weekend because everyone else is always working. In fact, the only person who can possibly provide company is Hermann. It’s fine during the day, Newt goes into the city to shop for some essentials. He ends up returning with large bags full of items he doesn’t need and a third keyboard for his ever growing collection. In the evening, though, he’s bored and finds himself wandering the halls to find anyone or anything that can provide a distraction. Naturally, the thing he finds is Hermann, who he literally runs into.

“Sorry- oh, it’s you,” Newt says, his tone half teasing. “Not sorry.”

“I was actually looking for you,” Hermann states. “Someone told me you’d been wandering around like a lost child and they asked me to collect you.”

“It’s a bit boring when you can’t work,” Newt explains. “There’s nothing to do.”

“Yes, I agree. I do have a solution, though, if you’re interested.”

Newt narrows his eyes. “I’m not sure what you think of as fun these days.”

Hermann holds up a small baggie, grinning rather slyly. “It’s been a bad pain day and I have medical clearance to use this.”

Instinctively, Newt reaches for his hand to lower it and conceal the baggie and its contents. “You can’t just wave around weed like that, dude.”

“I was hoping we could use your room, as I can assume you’ve disabled your smoke detector to smoke your infernal cigarettes.”

“You do realize that offering me weed isn’t going to make me suddenly forgive you. For anything.”

“I am fully aware, Newton, that you do not believe in the concept of forgiveness. But I am equally aware that you are without a doubt going to smoke this with me.”

It’s within shamefully few minutes that Newt is sitting on his bed, rolling a joint as Hermann watches him from the uncomfortable desk chair. It’s been some time since he’s done this, given the difficulty of acquiring it through his usual means. Even from a medicinal standpoint, with the low supplies, it’s near impossible to obtain for anything but physical medicinal needs. He fumbles for his lighter, then holds both the lighter and joint out to Hermann.

“I wouldn’t have assumed that you still engaged in anything remotely rebellious,” Newt states, waiting eagerly for his turn.

“It’s quick and effective pain management. While not ideal, it does help keep me functional when I need a hasty solution.”

“Mhm.” Newt holds out his hand for the joint and Hermann passes it over.

“Do you still-”

“No.” After he exhales, Newt coughs just for a moment. He’s definitely out of practice. “I sort of lost my contact when I-” He grimaces, then decides to drop it. “Never mind.”

“You slept with your dealer?” Hermann supplies the answer.

“How do you know that?” Newt flushes with something between embarrassment and shame and it’s very difficult to conceal it.

Hermann takes the joint from him. “You told me on a voicemail. You were very drunk, so I’ve suspected you don’t remember it.”

“That was presumably not cool of me.” Newt’s enough of an adult to admit his own mistakes, or most of them.

“Yes, well. It was far from the most pleasant thing to wake up to. You were crying.”

At first Newt thinks Hermann is teasing him or being cruel, but then he sees how pointedly he won’t meet his eyes.

“That sounds about right for drunk me, yes.”

“It’s odd because if you hadn’t cried, if you’d just told me, it wouldn’t have made it feel like infidelity. Even though it wasn’t.” Hermann passes the joint back. “I couldn’t bring myself to call you after that.”

Newt swallows hard. He really hasn’t taken the time to look back at the ways in which he may have hurt Hermann, instead selfishly focusing on his own pain, which he’s done nothing but shove in Hermann’s face.

“I didn’t leave you any other voicemails, did I?” he asks.

Hermann shakes his head. “No, so hopefully you stopped the nasty habit of leaving drunk voicemails.”

Despite himself, Newt grins at that. “Eh, I’m sure there’s been a few for other people. I’ve always got to get the last word in, after all.”

“Newton, I’d like to try to be friends again.”

The grin almost immediately falls from Newt’s face. “That’s the thing, Hermann. We never were friends. We were together and then we were two people in love with each other and then we were...me and you and then we were nothing.”

“There’s no reason we can’t attempt to be friends for the first time.”

“I don’t think we like each other enough to be friends, even if we do spend all day together.”

“You’re doing this to punish me,” Hermann observes, and it should sound far too juvenile for him, but it doesn’t because it’s alarmingly true. “And I think it’s time you heard me out.” Hermann takes the joint from him and snuffs it out on his desk.

“Dude, I’m high as shit right now, now is not the time to talk about our feelings.”

Frankly, Newt’s terrified of this sort of honesty and what it could mean to him. Admitting that he’s done wrong is difficult enough, but admitting that he’s continuing to do wrong is even more difficult.

“Alright, fine.” Hermann holds up one elegant hand in a show of surrender. 

“Or maybe,” Newt says, probably not his brightest idea. “I should listen because I’m high.” Maybe this is easier for him this way, easier to cope and dismiss.

“No, Newton. I want to tell you when you’re you.”

“Tell me what?”

“Three years ago,” he pauses, sighs, “I didn’t have any ulterior motives, despite what you may think. I slept with you because I was in love with you.”

Part of Newt feels like his heart is shattering to a thousand pieces, but the other part of him is angrier than ever before. “That makes it worse, not better. You  _ fucked _ me and held me through the night and let me expose myself to you like that and kept everything to yourself, you selfish, selfish prick.”

“There really is no winning with you, is there? The only way you would have been happy is if I had declared my undying love and told you I’d be with you forever and never leave you again and that was just not going to happen. That was never what was going to happen. I was always going to leave.”

“Now I’m upset,” Newt declares. “You’ve ruined my high, and I’m just pissed off because I didn’t want to talk about this ever again but it was clearly important to you to just get it off your chest and what do you think this is accomplishing?” 

“Because you’re being an absurd little man who refuses to acknowledge something had happened in your past and yet you have the initials of a former lover tattooed on your thigh.”

“You’re still hung up on this? Christ, I should have known you’d never drop this issue.” Newt sits up, leaning forward so that he’s more or less in Hermann’s space. “If it bothers you so much, I’ll let you choose the tattoo I get to cover it, if you’re willing to pay.”

“Excellent. I think perhaps a tattoo that makes it ever clearer how much of an idiot you are.”

“Oh, then I should just go for your full name then, because only an idiot would be that committed to the idea of you after realizing what a bastard you are.”

And like that, in the horrible movie cliche that is their evening, they kiss. It’s hard and abrupt and awkward and done in an uncomfortable position, but Newt’s holding on to Hermann’s shirt and Hermann’s reaching out to touch Newt’s waist. It’s probably one of the least coordinated kisses of Newt’s life and he’s too far gone for a few moments to care. It’s only after Hermann’s started to shift off of the chair to the bed, and he’s so very instinctively moving back that he pulls away.

“Don’t,” Newt mouths, his eyes gone wide. “I’m not going through this with you again.”

Hermann pulls back sharply and scrambles to his feet, reaching for his cane. He looks about as dazed as Newt feels and for a moment Newt feels a pang of guilt. This was not calculated on either end, this was pure impulse. The sentiment still stands, though. They’re through. And that’s that. With Hermann out of the room, he stares forward for a few moments, shell shocked, before bringing his fingers to his mouth.

The hatred he can still feel. The resentment, the hostility, those are still there, but they’re softened by something else. Never softened enough to fade away, but as if a spell has been broken, he can no longer extract his bad feelings fully from the immense love he once felt for Hermann. The love part of him will likely always feel.


	2. Chapter 2

_ 2022 _

Newt takes a smug satisfaction in the fact that he’s right and before long, the only remaining members of k-science are himself and Hermann. The negative to this is that there’s only two members of his department and one is his secret ex-boyfriend turned verbal sparring partner. And still the closest thing he has to a real friend.

The animosity he feels towards Hermann has, admittedly, become less deep rooted and more comical, if nothing else. They fight because that’s the nature of how they function and while he does think Hermann is stuffy, prudish, and chooses to present himself as uninteresting, he doesn’t actually hate him. It would make for miserable work if he did.

Work is, frankly, anything but boring. They’re always staving off disaster and as a two person team, it’s unbearably hectic whenever something goes slightly amiss. Newt likes to think this chaos is why he’s slowly morphing from a friendly but overzealous guy to something not entirely dissimilar to a mad scientist trope. What’s worse than becoming this is how little he actually minds it. Despite the claims that he hates being so often shut up with Hermann in their lab, he makes the minimal effort to actually leave. This doesn’t mean he doesn’t, on occasion, crave normal human interaction. He’s not that far gone yet.

“You’ve washed your clothes,” Hermann observes, looking over from his chalkboard as Newt enters the lab.

“I do, on occasion, wash my clothes. It may surprise you to learn that I shower, too,” Newt answers, dramatically sliding into his chair. He pointedly makes sure to stop just over the dividing line of their lab spaces.

“I thought you purposely spilled kaiju bodily fluids on yourself weekly to get a contamination shower so you could avoid washing.”

“You’ve caught me, Hermann,” he answers drily. “That’s my secret.”

“What’s the occasion?” Hermann asks. 

Newt shouldn’t be surprised he’s asked this question. Admittedly, he did actually tie his tie today instead of putting on the same tie from the day before. And he’s wearing a shirt that doesn’t have a noticeable stain.

“I’m going for drinks with some engineers from J-Tech,” he explains. He more or less invited himself, but he’s not looking to make long-term friends.

“Ah.” Hermann pauses at the chalkboard, then starts tapping away. “Is this about your young gentleman you’ve been making eyes at across the mess hall?”

“My young gentleman? Are we in a Jane Austen novel, Hermann?”

“What is his name?” Hermann contemplates for a few moments, but Newt can tell from the pause Hermann knows full well what the young man’s name is. “Brian. The American.”

“Ryan. The Canadian, but I appreciate that you care enough to deliberately be wrong about something.” He reaches for a pair of gloves, snapping them on rather dramatically. “He’s someone to talk to who doesn’t like to shout at me, which is enjoyable now and then. I’m sure you could come if you wanted to be in polite society for a few moments.”

“I’d rather not engage in your juvenile drinking games, though I do cherish the offer to watch the impending disaster.”

“Hey, Hermann, maybe try not being jealous,” Newt says, triumphant. If Hermann says anything in response, he doesn’t hear, because he’s already got his headphones in. It’s a low blow, but it’s something that needs said. Or something that Newt thinks needs said.

The work day passes in imposed silence and, for once, Newt manages to clean up carefully and on time. It’s a Friday and, barring emergency, they’re not technically obligated to work on the weekend (though they do anyway, both of them usually annoyed when the other shows up on a Saturday morning.)

“Are you leaving for your  _ date _ ?” Hermann asks, shuffling some papers on his desk. It’s clear from the stacks of paper that he still has to sort through, he’ll be in the lab until late.

“It’s not a date, dude. There’s a whole group of people going, you’re as welcome as anyone else is.” Certainly as welcome as Newt is, seeing as he invited himself. “Just because you’re a boring old man in a thirty something’s body…”

“I am no such thing. I just don’t have any interest in socializing in that particular manner.”

“It’s drinks. I’ve seen you have a drink before.”

Hermann turns to look at him, contemplating for a few moments. “Alright. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to spend an evening in the company of colleagues.”

Newt is really not sure this is what he wanted at all. Despite what he may or may not have said, he had planned on attempting to flirt with Ryan the Canadian and taking your secret ex-boyfriend along for drinks is not the best way to set the foundation for something new. Nonetheless, he waits for Hermann to sort his papers neatly away before he leaves to meet up with the others.

 

Hermann gets spectacularly drunk. At first, Newt finds it amusing to see him so loose, but then when he realizes that Hermann is likely to be embarrassed by this in the future, he starts to worry. He ends up sitting off in a corner with him, engaging him in conversation that only interest the two of them so that he doesn’t say something foolish.

This doesn’t keep Newt from making eyes at Ryan the Canadian across the table, but he at least attempts to be sly about it. Of course, also drunk Newt is even less subtle than sober Newt, who has never managed to be subtle in his adult life. 

“I’m going to get you some water,” Newt says, leaning over to Hermann. “And then we should head out.” Before...he’s not sure what. But he expects a disaster.

“You will take me home?” Hermann asks, narrowing his eyes skeptically. “And then you will go home?”

“Yeah, it’s like driving the Lyft but this time I’m just walking you.”

“I just want to make sure you’re going...home.” Hermann is staring, or rather glaring, at Ryan the Canadian.

“This is not a conversation I’m having in public, dude, but we will have it.” Newt pulls away and stands so he can fetch them both a glass of water. 

He’s stopped by Ryan the Canadian when he’s got both glasses of water in hand, which does not make for an easy way to appear anything but cool.

“I’m surprised you got Gottlieb to come out tonight,” Ryan begins, “he seems to monopolize a lot of your time.”

“Just wanted to keep him company since he doesn’t get out much,” Newt explains. “I’m usually- I’ve got so much more time on my nights normally.”

He doesn’t. He works late and then eats dinner with Hermann or alone and then does more research or somehow finds a way to fight with Hermann some more. It’s a problem.

“Oh, well. Maybe I can have a bit of that time sometime.”

“Yeah!” Newt smiles brightly. “My next Friday, assuming there’s no events of mass destruction, is completely free.”

“Well, not anymore,” Ryan answers, smiling back at him. “I’ll come by your room around seven.”

“Great, I’ll see you then.” He glances past Ryan to Hermann who is, blessedly, staring down at his phone and not looking over at him. With a deep breath, he steps back and moves back to Hermann, passing him the water. “Drink this and then we’re out.”

“Newton, it is rarely a good idea to mix business and pleasure,” Hermann says, sounding far too somber for a man who’s had as many vodka tonics as he’s had.

“I’m not mixing business and pleasure.” He rolls his eyes and then takes a sip of his own water. “I barely talk to anyone from J-Tech and it’s not like they’re not...intermingling with each other.”

The look Hermann shoots him conveys disbelief, but he remains silent as he downs his glass of water, then grasps for his cane. Newt helps him to his feet (more because he’s drunk than because of any usual need for assistance) and they leave together with a wave farewell. Most of the others don’t even acknowledge their departure.

 

It’s late when Newt gets Hermann back to his room. He’s made a point of not going into Hermann’s room and vice versa, since the unfortunate kissing incident two years past. It’s not that he doesn’t trust Hermann to not kiss him, it’s that he doesn’t trust himself to not want to be kissed. 

“Can you handle getting yourself in bed?” he asks, gently guiding Hermann into the doorway of his room.

“I am an adult, yes,” Hermann answers petulantly.

“That’s not the answer to my question, but I’ll take your word for it.”

“Why do you insist on trying to make all these awful friends?” Hermann asks, leaning against the doorway.

Newt frowns. “I’m not trying to make awful friends. I don’t need friends. I just need adult human interaction. So do you.”

“It’s a distraction from the work, which is not ideal. But I s’pose you’re right.”

“You need to get to bed, Hermann. I’m tired.”

“You’re going to your room?”

“Yes, I’m going to my room.” Newt takes a step back. “Right now.” He has a suspicion he knows what’s coming next.

“Alone?”

With a sigh, Newt steps forward again. “Yes, alone. But it really shouldn’t matter to you regardless.”

Hermann huffs. “I am aware it should not matter to me.”

“Because even if, and I mean this as a fairly large if, I cared about how you felt about my romantic life, I’m not an idiot. You wanting me not sleeping with other people is you being an emotionally immature jerk, not you wanting to be with me. Or being willing to act on it.”

“As I said, Newton. It does not matter to me who you do or don’t spend your free time with.”

To really prove how much it does not matter, Hermann slams the door shut. Newt hears him swear behind it, possibly because he stumbled, or possibly out of frustration, but he refuses to care and leaves for his own room.

 

They both stumble into the lab later than usual the next day, at almost precisely the same time. Newt’s drinking a very large cup of coffee and wearing casual clothes. He can’t bring himself to care about dressing for work, especially given the way his head throbs. Hermann looks as stuffy and uncomfortable as ever. Once they’re settled at their usual places, Newt turns to look over at Hermann.

“How’s your head feeling today?” Newt switches on his head lamp to stare down at his sample.

“I don’t see how my personal well-being is of any concern to you,” Hermann answers from his chalkboard.

“Because I’m the bastard who has to sit in a lab with you for most of my waking hours.”

“And maybe it’s time I allowed you to actually become just that.” Hermann does not falter in the persistent scratch of his chalk on the board. “Last night only proves the point you made so long ago, we cannot be friends.”

Newt’s busy peeling away a layer of skin on the sample before he can answer. “Dude, it’s not that serious. Drunk me is antagonistic.”

“I have allowed the previous nature of our relationship to impact the way we shape the future, which was inconsiderate and unfair to you.”

Admittedly, Newt had begun to think of Hermann more and more as a friend. But perhaps it is best if they make this break into the strictly professional. Any interpersonal relationship they have really does leave too much space for past emotions, and Newt knows this applies to him as well.

“I’m glad you’re starting to see sense,” Newt says, not looking up from his work.

“Well, logically the most consistent relationship we’ve had is our working relationship of two years, so it makes sense to invest in that one, as it is the most holistically beneficial and positive.”

Maybe it’s the pang of wanting what you pointedly can’t have, but Newt opens his mouth to speak then, even though the words he wants to say do not tumble out. He’s a grown man and it’s been eight years, but he would choose those nine months over any year he’s had since then and he means it. Instead of talking, he closes his eyes for a moment and takes a deep, focusing breath.

“I need to focus on this,” Newt remarks. “Much as I’d love to talk about this, I’ve got work to do, and so do you.”

And he supposes that’s what it takes to establish a not very personal relationship.

 

Ryan the Canadian starts coming around. Newt doesn’t quite keep him at arm’s length, but he doesn’t make it easy to get close either. He’s not oblivious, he knows this isn’t bound to be a whirlwind romance or even anything beyond a night or two of fun. He’s not looking for anything beyond that. Ryan’s sort of boring, beyond his professional passion, and a bit too conventionally attractive to keep Newt’s attention beyond from an aesthetic perspective. 

So he flirts and one night they even kiss a bit before he kicks Ryan out of his room for the sake of doing nothing. Maybe it’s a bit of the power trip of leading someone on, Newt wonders, or maybe it’s something else completely keeping him from just getting to the inevitable. He’s only had casual relationships like this with one glaring exception in his life, so it’s not clear to him why he won’t allow this to move forward, he simply doesn’t.

After about two weeks, Ryan makes his appearance unannounced at Newt’s door. Newt wants to consider this as a sign, as he answers it to let in an attractive, smiling man. Once in the room, Ryan immediately sits on Newt’s (unmade) bed, leaning back to look around the room.

“I’m jealous that K-Science officers get their own rooms,” he remarks. “I’ve got to share with the sloppiest person you could ever imagine.”

Newt’s wondering what constitutes as sloppy to this man, seeing as his own room looks like a disaster zone. Or maybe it’s different because Ryan’s not trying to sleep with his roommate.

“Well, there’s only two of us and even when there were more, we were a smaller division,” Newt explains. And then he imagines what a horror show it would be to share a room with Hermann.

“Two of you, right,” Ryan muses for a moment. “And how is it working with the antisocial, grumpy one? Isn’t he rather...odd?”

“I don’t think so.” That’s untrue. Hermann is odd and strange and sometimes off-putting, but those are the things that Newt likes about him. He’s allowed to say these things because he knows Hermann, but relative strangers should keep their opinions to themselves.

“He dresses like he’s about eighty years old and he can’t be much older than you are.”

“He’s less than a year older than me.”

Ryan snorts. “That figures. Honestly, he just seems off-putting and not very personable, unlike you.”

Newt doesn’t need to understand psychology to understand what Ryan’s trying to do. He’s trying to gratify his ego, make him seem better than his peer, like he’s less of an outcast and a much more interesting person. Except this isn’t true, he doesn’t believe it, and he doesn’t want it to be true.

“He’s busy. He’s been working nonstop since his mid-twenties, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t talk about him like that around me or anyone else.”

“Why? He’s no friend of yours. Or if he wants to be, I wouldn't pursue that.”

“What does that mean?” Newt snaps.

“The other day I was working late and I stopped by his room because I had an urgent question about the Mark 1 coding and he’s got a picture of you on his desk. Not a current picture, either, it’s probably about a decade old. Nothing else, no significant other, no family, no friends. Just a photo of you.”

Newt flushes at the thought. He should be angry that Hermann has the photo still, but he feels something else completely.

“I don’t see what the problem is. We’re friends,” Newt declares. A bold statement given that just two weeks ago they’d finally decided they weren’t friends at all.

“It’s creepy. He’s got no one but you.”

“You’re right. He’s sacrificed his personal life for the sake of all you’re doing right now. This whole damn program wouldn’t exist as it is without him.” Suddenly, with full force, Newt remembers exactly what it was like to sit and watch the first two kaiju attacks on the television, following each of them moment by moment. He remembers the man who sat beside him, who supported his interest and made him wash and eat during those days. The man who had to go to work because he could not idly sit by as tragedy occurred. Since those days, tragedy has not stopped occurring and Hermann has not stopped working.

“Alright, I get it. He’s a cool dude. I’m not here to talk about him, I’m here to spend some time with you.”

“I know what you’re here to do, pretty boy,” Newt states. “And I’m not interested in that. Thanks. Now get out of here.”

“I-”

“Just get out.”

“Alright, man.” Ryan doesn’t hesitate on scrambling to his feet to leave. It’s clear from the urgency with which he leaves that Newt was never much of a priority in any capacity.

Newt counts down from a minute, giving Ryan enough time to be far away. He’s sure this is the nail in the coffin of any social life he had at the Shatterdome. He’ll be considered off-putting (like Hermann, his mind supplies) or a weirdo and that seems not just alright but correct. If people won’t accept him for the eccentricities, then there’s really no reason to accept him at all. He’s not here to make friends, he’s here to hopefully save the world.

He steps out of his room, hesitantly peering out the door before marching forward down the hall, only a few doors down to Hermann’s room. He pounds rather dramatically on the door for almost half a minute before Hermann answers, peering at him over his reading glasses. The book in his hand and rather cross expression make it abundantly clear that Newt has interrupted precious leisure time, but this is important.

“Can I come in?” Newt asks, glancing into the room.

Hermann hesitates, then gestures for him to step inside. “Is something wrong, Newton?”

Newt strides to the small desk, plucking off the sole picture frame. For a moment, he wonders if he’s being foolish, if this was something he misinterpreted or misheard, but the photo is concrete proof. He’s laughing in the photo, young and messy haired and framed by the light of a well lit fire. This was from a romantic weekend away, their holiday excursion to the Bed & Breakfast, a candid memory preserved of a near perfect two day trip.

“Why do you still have this?” Newt questions, holding the photo out to Hermann.

“I suppose,” Hermann begins, taking the photo from him. He cradles it tenderly, “it’s a reminder of the world that I’m fighting for. It was very comforting to be reminded of happiness in those early days of the war, when I was isolated and working constantly.”

“You’re a goddamn martyr, Hermann. You gave up our relationship when you couldn’t give it everything you wanted, and then you threw away the chance again because you’ve got this complex where you think you need to save the world before you can be happy.”

“I am not a martyr.”

“Then you’re a self-sacrificing idiot. Honestly, either of those works.” Newt laughs.

When Hermann, cross because he’s being laughed at, places a hand on his hip, revealing more fully what he’s wearing, Newt’s laughter only erupts louder.

“You’re wearing a MIT sweatshirt,” Newt says, between laughter. “A threadbare sweatshirt that your secret ex boyfriend gave you almost a decade ago. You’re a martyr and a sentimental fool, Hermann. And you’ve got one singular soft spot and it’s me.”

Hermann outright glares at him then. “I do not have a soft spot for you, or anyone else.”

“I’m trying to make this easier for you, dude. I’m trying to make this easier for both of us.”

Hermann places the photo frame back in its spot, staring down at the image rather than the very real Newt in front of him. Newt lets him have his moment before he takes a step forward, reaching for his hand.

“We just haven’t been able to want the same things at the same time,” Newt explains. “But I think the problem is, neither of us is going to know what we want until this war is over.”

“I think you know precisely what you want in any moment,” Hermann says, turning to him. “But you’re mercurial and it changes from moment to moment.”

“That’s...fair. That’s totally fair.” He reluctantly drops his hand. Maybe this is just another mood or impulse, but it doesn’t feel like it. “Or maybe you simultaneously don’t want me to be with someone else and don’t know how to stop pushing me away.”

“My motivations are not that complex, Newton.”

Newt rolls his eyes. “I think they’re exactly that complex. I’m just saying, I sort of...I want to do this. And I’m putting my cards on the table.”

“I don’t understand what’s inspired this. We’re in perfect agreement to be content with the current nature of our professional relationship and I’m determined to keep everything-”

“This has happened again, hasn’t it?” Newt pulls away, using his hand to rub the bridge of his nose. “I’ve left myself exposed to you and you just...I’m going to have to ask for a transfer. It’s the only way, isn’t it?”

“I’m merely trying to understand why you want to change the formation of our relationship now.”

Instead of responding with words, Newt dramatically throws his hands up, then steps into Hermann’s space. He stammers, looking for the right things to say, but this is one of the rare occasions in his life that he’s rendered speechless.

When the words do come, his voice is alarmingly small and cracks. “Because when you have feelings for someone after almost a decade, that means something, right?”

“It does,” Hermann answers. “It does to me.”

“When you have feelings for someone or when they have feelings for you?”

“Both, in this situation.”

“Let’s just say we let what happens happen. And then after the war is over, we sit down and have a very serious talk about this.”

Hermann looks like he’s contemplating for a few moments and then he steps forward. Newt knows what’s happening the moment it’s starting and has the pleasure of initiating the kiss. He rests his hands on Hermann’s shoulders and has to lean up into the kiss, but it’s worth it for the small sound of very pleased surprise and the feeling of being collected in lithe arms. It’s a homecoming of sorts, and one he’s not planning on ending any time soon. They stay wrapped up in each other like this for a long while, until Newt definitely needs to take a moment to breathe, so he pulls away, leaning his head on Hermann’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole to you,” Newt exhales.

“It was not entirely unwarranted. At first.”

“I was being overdramatic. Theatrical.”

Newt hears Hermann snort and turns to look at him. Sensible as always, Hermann opts to resume kissing then rather than saying anything further. Newt grins and then laughs when he feels the still familiar sensation of Hermann’s hand dipping just below the waistband of his jeans.

“Glad to know you’re still a pervert, Hermann,” he says. “But all you had to do was ask.”

With a smirk, Hermann slips his hand lower, cupping his ass. “Apologies. It’s been some time.”

“Five years?” Newt says, mostly teasing. He walks backwards towards Hermann’s bed, taking his hand and encouraging him to follow. When the back of his legs hit the bed, he sits back, framing Hermann between his legs.

“Two years.” Hermann runs a hand through Newt’s hair, then tugs gently so he can pull his head back for a kiss. “Last time I was with you it had been three. You can do the math on that, dearest.”

“For me it’s been-”

“I don’t want to know. Not right now.”

That’s understandable, Newt thinks, as he pulls Hermann closer. The bed isn’t big enough to move too much, but he does scoot father back so that Hermann can follow, laying back and allowing Hermann on top of him.

“Is there anything I need to know?” Newt asks, making short work of tugging Hermann’s shirt out of his trousers. (And honestly, who wears a shirt under a sweatshirt for leisure wear?)

A contemplative silence follows, and then Hermann answers. “Just be careful with the leg and everything else is mostly the same.”

Rather than make the process of undressing easier, Hermann kisses along Newt’s jawline, tracing the lines of the other side of his face with his fingers. Newt’s own hands are very eager to pull off Hermann’s sweatshirt and get him without clothes, but it proves a challenge in the position.

“Alright, dude.” Newt squeezes Hermann’s side as a warning to sit up. “Not to be dramatic, but I will die soon if I don’t see you naked, so let’s get to that.”

They have to pull apart fully to strip out of their things. Newt can mostly slip out of his things, but he’s delayed because his first step is unlacing his boots. Still, it’s short work of them both stripping down to nothing.

“The tattoos are a bit much,” Hermann observes. 

“You’re about to get laid for the first time in over two years and you’re going to insult my tattoo?” Newt questions, looking more amused than offended.

“I...honestly, the first time I saw you with your tattoos I regretted that I would never have the chance to trace your lovely freckles again. Much like everything else about you, I have a complicated relationship with your tattoos.”

Newt shakes his head fondly and pulls him in for another kiss. It’s charming and flattering that Hermann retains such fond memories of their past, but there’s nothing to be done about how either of their bodies have changed. It’s best to learn to find joy in what they have in front of them.

“I’ve still got your initials,” Newt says, starting to kiss down Hermann’s neck and to his shoulders. 

In acknowledgement of this, Hermann rests his hand on Newt’s thigh, squeezing it for a moment before he pushes him back down onto the bed. 

 

The next morning, Newt wakes with his face pressed to one of Hermann’s pillows. He knows immediately that he’s alone in the bed and feels resigned to this fact. If anything, he’s disappointed in himself for being optimistic that anything would be different. There’s going to be a note or a conversation explaining that it was a very pleasant night, but that Hermann cannot possibly engage in this again, as he’s got to dedicate himself to martyrdom.

There are, he supposes, worse things than this. He had a really good night and feels, for once, like he may have closure. Or maybe these are things he’s only really thinking because he’s still half asleep. Still, he’s not looking forward to taking a walk of shame back to his room when there’s likely to be other people walking by. Especially because people will comment if they see which room he’s coming from.

He’s halfway through his strategy to leave the room subtly when the bed dips behind him and he feels an arm wrap around him. Within moments, there’s a warm body pressed flush against his back.

“I had to do my morning stretches,” Hermann rumbles against his ear. “And check my emails. We’re going to be late for work if you don’t wake up soon.”

Newt only presses his face further into the pillow and grumbles tiredly. There’s no reason for him to possibly leave this bed.

“I can’t hear what you’re saying, darling,” Hermann continues. “You do have to use your words to communicate like a sensible human being.”

“It was something to the effect of ‘fuck off’ but please don’t actually. If you keep using pet names, I’m never going to be able to leave this bed.”

He’s fairly certain Hermann’s smirking against the back of his neck and then the softest press of a kiss. “Oh, my dearest darling Newton.”

“I thought you wanted me to leave bed for work. Even though no one enforces work hours on us but you.”

“We have visitors from the Anchorage Shatterdome today and one of us needs to clean his side of the lab.”

Shifting slightly, Newt turns so he can face Hermann. It’s very difficult in the narrow bed, but he manages. “It’s part of my process, babe. If they want to see the work we do, they’re going to see the mess.”

“Newton,” Hermann warns as he sits up in bed.

“Alright, alright. Pass me my glasses.” Newt sits up likewise, holding his hand out.

 

“Just so we’re clear,” Newt asks that night. “We’re not using any sort of labels, right?”

Hermann, after a very thorough inspection of Newt’s body, has settled between his thighs and outright glares up at him for the interruption.

“We are not going to use labels,” he answers. “But we’re not going to be involved with other people, unless at a later date we both find that arrangement agreeable.”

Newt snorts at that thought. He’s not particularly interested in open relationships or polyamory, but he understands the appeal. If he was with someone else, he’d definitely consider it. But he cannot imagine a world where Hermann is particularly keen on sharing.

“I don’t think I have the time to even consider that.” Newt props himself up on his elbows. Now is not really the time to talk, but they haven’t had time before. Well, they had time but it was occupied by kissing like teenagers and then by rutting against each other until they stripped their clothes off. He’d only realized after Hermann left two rather large love bites on his neck that they need to clarify what it is they’re doing before they do more of it.

The hum Hermann gives then is all too satisfied as he leans down, placing a kiss to the tattoo on Newt’s inner thigh before kissing up towards his cock.

“And here I thought you hated that tattoo,” Newt teases.

“Do you want me to do this or not, Newton? Because if you keep antagonizing me…”

At this, Newt makes a dramatic show of shutting his mouth which appears to be a satisfactory response. Hermann continues his teasing kisses, trailing them up the length of his cock. Newt, to keep his hands occupied, runs them along his stomach and chest, teasing his nipples.

When Hermann takes the head of his cock in his mouth, Newt arches off the bed. A firm but gentle hand pushes Newt back down, reminding him to stay still. Hermann continues, paying special attention to the head as his hand wraps around the shaft, stroking in rhythm.

Newt bites his lip, but he can’t help the moan from coming out. Judging by how much more eagerly Hermann starts to move, that was exactly what he was looking forward to. So he continues like this, writhing and moaning and doing his best to give into pleasure.

“Herms,” he cries out. “Please.”

Hermann pulls away then, continuing to stroke him. “I want to see you do this for me, Newton. Can you come for me?”

Newt nods feebly once, then again, and with a particular twist of Hermann’s hand he comes, crying out loudly. The sound practically echoes across Hermann’s room.

“That uh, that brings back memories.” Newt laughs. “Thanks, you’re incredible.”

Hermann shifts forward, wincing slightly as he does. He eyes his hand warily, before opting to wipe it off on the sheets. “I’ll remember you said that tomorrow when we’re fighting in the office.”

“Your leg is hurting you,” Newt observes, scooting back on the bed so he’s leaning against the headboard. He pats the empty space between his legs.

“That wasn’t the best position for it. I’ll take some painkillers later.”

Shifting on the bed, Hermann sits with his back pressed to Newt’s chest. Newt kisses along the back of his neck and along his shoulder. He rubs at Hermann’s bad leg, soothing rather than sexual in his intentions.

“We’ll take this next part easy,” Newt says, his other hand sliding around to tease at the base of Hermann’s partly flaccid cock. 

“Mm, but not too easy, I hope.”

In answer, Newt bites down gently on Hermann’s shoulder. He feels Hermann’s cock twitch in his hand. He wraps his fingers around and strokes, softly until he’s fully hard, and then he picks up the pace. Hermann’s head falls back in pleasure and it’s so beautiful to watch him come undone like this, to see the carefully maintained facade shift into some raw and undeniably human. The noises he makes are still guarded and surprised at first, but when he comes it’s with a low groan.

Newt’s kisses along his neck soften as he wipes his hand off on his own thigh. The air is still, punctuated by ragged breath and the soft sound of the gentle kisses. Hermann turns enough to capture his lips in a kiss, chaste in comparison to what they’ve just done.

“I still love you,” Hermann says, resting his forehead against Newt’s. 

“I love you, too. Still. Always.”

They grin at each other. They’re both messes, sweaty and chaotic with messy hair and Newt’s glasses are sitting crooked on his face. It’s a perfect moment.


	3. Chapter 3

_2024_

It’s not exactly a secret that they’re together. It’s true that for the first few months or so, they’re able to keep it quiet by default of acting like their normal selves. Eventually, though, most people around the Shatterdome have heard from a friend of a friend that they leave the same room to go to work several times a week or that Newt was walking around with a chalk handprint on the back of his jeans. Usually Newt finds out about these rumors and stories second-hand several weeks after the fact, when someone tries to tease him about his relationship, but he shrugs it off.  So no one really says anything publicly because it’s not a big deal and the world may end any day now.

These days, they both work for most of their waking hours. It’s well known that the funding is being cut and will be cut completely before long. It’s also known to anyone who actually knows anything about kaiju, which Newt thinks should be very obvious information, that walls are not going to keep them out. If they’re very lucky, it will buy the world a few years before everything goes to shit. Newt can poke and prod in whatever viscera he can get his hands on and Hermann can scratch away on his board, but without active action, the world’s going to end.

Needless to say, this sort of tension is not the best on any relationship. They fight more than they ever have before. About anything and everything. Usually, they’re able to restrain it to the labspace and work hours, but this presents a problem when neither of them really stop working.

“Newton, you’re talking nonsense,” Hermann shouts across the lab, leaning over his ladder. It nearly topples over.

“I’m not talking nonsense, just because you can’t understand a sentence that doesn’t include a number in it,” Newt shouts back, tempted to toss the bit of kaiju guts he’s got in his hand.

“I understand what you’re saying completely well, though I wish I didn’t sometimes.”

Newt rolls his eyes and actually does toss the soft flesh in his hand, only it flops onto the ground and bounces once feebly. Hermann’s eyes zero in on it, watching as it skips ever so minimally over the line.

“Get that. Off of. My side of the lab,” Hermann grits, making his way down the ladder.

Tentatively, Newt reaches out his foot, kicking the flesh back to his side of the lab. He’s ruined that part of the sample now.

“You’re not using most of your side. Ever. I need the space for my samples of fucking giant alien monsters!”

Hermann rolls his eyes, stepping over to his desk space. “It’s still necessary for me to have a wide path to move through the lab safely.”

“I’m not going to create a safety hazard for you, Hermann. I’m not that inconsiderate.” Newt’s honestly rather offended that Hermann would assume he wouldn’t give him that courtesy. Except Hermann had just stepped on a bit of kaiju colon just two weeks prior and slipped, only catching himself at the last minute. That was probably not the most considerate.

“The cleanliness of your side of the lab is a safety hazard,” Hermann argues. “And now that you’ve been bringing samples to your room, which is against PPDC policy, my spaces that have not been contaminated by you are becoming very limited.”

Newt frowns deeply. He is not a contamination. In protest, he tosses another bit of kaiju stomach, just as a warning, and it flops idly onto the ground. “Why don’t you just file a report on me, then? _Again_.”

“I think I’ve made it abundantly clear that our personal relationship will not impact our professional relationship,” Hermann defends. “If you continue to do subpar work and break policy, I will continue to report you.”

“That’s shitty. You’re a shitty boy-” Newt stops his thought. Hermann is not his boyfriend. That’s been the agreement this whole time. When the war is over Hermann might be his boyfriend or his partner or husband. Whichever fantasy Newt chooses to pursue pretends on his mood.

“I’m not shitty, as you say, for insisting that you hold yourself to the same level to which I hold you as a professional!”

In a fit of very, very mature anger, Newt slams a fist down on the workstation, making the very wobbly kaiju flesh on it bounce. It would be a laughable moment if he wasn’t in the middle of an argument. “I’m doing just fine, I don’t need you trying to micromanage me, thanks.”

“We have a meeting in fifteen minutes, you need to clean up those samples and make yourself look decent.”

One of the samples flops dramatically on the ground as an answer. Newt picks everything carefully up with a glare in Hermann’s direction. He looks presentable as is. Clearly someone in the PPDC (Hermann) has a fundamental misunderstanding of what a biologist who is good at his job looks like, because he’s expecting a level of presentability that’s not possible for Newt. Looking down at the holes in his jeans, Newt realizes this was never a possibility for him, regardless of profession. He’s alright with that, and he only wishes Hermann understood that better.

 

They don’t have a chance to stop fighting that day, so Newt takes it upon himself to go to Hermann’s room at night. He has no other agenda than to sleep restfully that night, a rare enough occurrence. While he has a key, he still knocks. Hermann insists it’s the polite thing to do, but he remembers that Hermann is the same man who used to barge into his apartment in Boston whenever he saw fit.

He shuffles awkwardly outside of the door, waiting for Hermann to open it. Judging by Hermann’s  appearance, hair ruffled and glasses on, he’s been reading and half asleep. Hopefully with some convincing, he can be fully asleep.

“Not tonight, Newton,” Hermann says, in lieu of greeting. “I have reports to read and review.”

“I just wanted to sleep here,” Newt states. This isn’t usually a problem. Sometimes he can be a bit of a distraction, but never enough that Hermann needs to remove him from the room.

Hermann remains impassive. “Tomorrow for sure, darling.”

That word’s taken on a dual meaning, from sweet to somewhat condescending. Or at least that’s how Newt chooses to interpret it. When he’s tired or frustrated, he suspects Hermann simply doesn’t understand what his tone implies to other people.

“Okay. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Newt turns on his heel and feels foolish walking back to his room. This is possibly the first time that Hermann didn’t even humor him with a kiss or a promise of something more substantial than tomorrow.

At least he has more space in his room, he thinks, laying on his side in bed. Optimistically, he lays there for a few long moments, wondering if Hermann will send him a text message or follow. He succumbs to sleep before he can feel disappointed.

When he’s woken, it’s much later in the evening and everything feels dim. There’s a gentle dip in the bed and then the feeling of someone gingerly removing his glasses from his face.

“Dude,” Newt sighs, and it’s meant to be endearing but much like most things he says proves to be charmingly awkward.

Hermann runs a hand through Newt’s hair. “It was not kind of me to send you away like that earlier after we’d been fighting.”

“S’alright.” Newt starts to sit up, but Hermann pushes him gently back down. “I would have kept you from reading anyway.”

Without cue, Newt scoots farther back on the bed with his back to the wall. Hermann follows and lays facing the same way, shifting even closer when Newt places an arm around him. The distinct scent of Hermann’s detergent (something he has to buy for sensitive skin) fills Newt’s nostrils as he presses his face against his back. Counting the rise and fall of Hermann’s breathing, he can calculate the moments until he’s sleeping.

For the past two years, on nights they slept together like this, Newt’s felt less afraid. If the world would happen to end, he’d still have this. Now, for some reason he can’t place, he’s afraid as they lay in the darkness. Maybe it’s the walls closing in and the end becoming more and more imminent, or maybe it’s something else completely.

“Please still love me,” he whispers into the dark, pressed against Hermann’s back. Hermann, fast asleep, shifts slightly farther from him on the small bed.

 

Eight months. They’re given eight months of funding before everything falls apart. Newt doesn’t have time to even think about what he’s going to do when the eight months are over, but he’ll have to. All of the remaining Jaegar pilots will be convening in Hong Kong and with all of the Shatterdomes closing, the Hong Kong K-Science research division remain the only experts on kaiju in...the world, if Newt allows himself to be dramatic.

For the first time since coming to Hong Kong, the Shatterdome feels full, but Newt knows it’s deceptive. This is entirely a last stand and the next months will be tense. In the shuffle of new people and introductions, the information about himself and Hermann becomes muddled and inconsistent. He can no longer get by on the assumption that everyone just knows that they’re involved in a very real and very physical way.

Being busy is a godsend. Newt’s realizing his samples are starting to run low as it’s becoming more difficult to obtain them. Allegedly even the black market is drying up, but he doubts that. He suspects being PPDC simply doesn’t have any weight in that world anymore. While this means disaster in the future, though, this makes for a busy present.

He’s come in with a particularly interesting piece of scale when he spots Hermann sat down for tea with a visitor. Hermann having company has always been rare, but especially as of late. Newt freezes in the doorway and ascertains that this is someone he’s already met. Mako Mori is sitting in Newt’s chair (on not Newt’s side of the lab) in earnest conversation with Hermann.

Newt doesn’t want to interrupt so he waves at the both of them and moves his sample to his table. He debates putting in his headphones to give them privacy, but instead he chooses to use their conversation as background music. They’re talking about Jaeger coding and construction, something Newt knows very little about for himself. He’s a tinkerer by nature, but not of something that large. Still, he considers himself intelligent enough to follow their conversation as best as he can and Mako, as a former child prodigy, is someone he has immense respect for. One of the few people around that he actually finds worth listening to.

Eventually, he’s so zoned into his work that the words have faded out.

“Dr. Geiszler,” Mako says over his shoulder and he jumps, nearly knocking over his sample.

“Hey, it’s just Newt, remember?” Newt answers, turning around.

“I’ve been in your chair. I apologize.” She smiles and slides the chair back over to his workspace. “Dr. Gottlieb was telling me about his time coding the Mark 1 Jaegers. He is a very impressive man.”

Newt suppresses the smile he often has when people see Hermann for the brilliant man he is. “He’s alright, yeah.” He settles down into his chair.

“Together I’m sure you two will do some brilliant work in these final months.”

“We don’t really do our work together. Herm- Dr. Gottlieb scratches away at his chalkboard and tells us approximately when the kaiju are coming and then I get to poke around in their guts if I’m very, very lucky.”

“I fail to see how that’s unrelated,” she states, glancing over at Hermann, who has resumed his place at the chalkboard. “You’re both working to understand them in your own way. Very few other people here care about understanding the kaiju.”

“Well, they’re not paid to understand the kaiju,” Newt retorts. “That’s sort of what I’m here for.” He holds up his gloved hands.

“I will leave you both to your work, then,” she says, politely, before making her exit.

“We’re going to be overrun by people soon,” Hermann observes, once she’s out of earshot. “She will be one of the only likeable people we encounter in these next months.”

“LIkeable is relative,” Newt defends. “I’m not sure you’d be able to safely say that you like me half the time.” His tone is teasing, venturing on flirtatious. He hasn’t managed proper flirting in the lab for several weeks.

Hermann glances over from his work at the board and then turns around, his chalk tapping on the board. Newt supposes there’s some sort of light at the end of the tunnel, because they’re either going to save the world or know firmly it’ll end within the next eight months and that’ll be that. He stares for a few moments too long at the line of Hermann’s back as he works, and Hermann must sense this because he turns around again.

“We should have a movie night or something soon,” Newt suggests. “If you still find me tolerable, if not likeable.”

“Newton.”

“I know, I know. You’re busy. I’m busy. We’re busy. We’ll talk about this when the world is safe. But you’re going to feel pretty shitty when the world ends and you realize you’ve forgotten what it’s like to have a human emotion.”

There’s a sigh on the other side of the room and then the sound of Hermann’s careful descent down the ladder, followed by the familiar sound of his stride across the room. “I really do not appreciate you accusing me of being emotionless.”

“And I don’t appreciate feeling like I have to beg for a moment of your time.” Newt crosses his arm and it must be comical, but Hermann blessedly says nothing. Hermann instead steps forward and drops a kiss to the top of his head.

“I don’t want to neglect you, or take you for granted. But I want to be able to guarantee we can have the conversation I’ve been promising you we’d have for two years.”

Newt smiles up at him. “Just one night, Hermann. You. Me. It’ll be like the old days when we’d try to watch something and make out on my couch. I might even manage to steal us some beers for good measure.”

For a moment, Hermann’s face falters, but then they smile at each other and for one of the first times in months there’s hope.

 

To obtain the handful of beers, Newt has to barter away several possessions. Beer is more or less contraband at the Shatterdome and difficult to obtain elsewhere these days, at least not without paying an excessive amount of money. The PPDC does not pay him enough money to attempt to buy some beers that they won’t even drink. He’d asked Hermann to arrive at seven and when he’s not arrived by seven fifteen, he has at least ten different fantasies about all of the things Hermann’s chosen over him. Instead, his reality is a very apologetic man in pajama bottoms and a faded MIT sweatshirt.

“I’m surprised you were willing to walk the hallways dressed like that,” Newt says by way of a greeting. “Won’t you be scandalized if people learn you wear casual clothes?”

“Everyone’s still at dinner,” Hermann explains, making his way to the bed. He sits back, leaning against the wall.

“Fair enough.” Newt hops up beside him, tablet in hand. “What do you want to watch?”

“I was hoping we could skip to the other part you mentioned about spending a night watching movies.”

“I don’t know. I’m not twenty three anymore. I’m just not so sure if I’m up to the task.”

“Liar.” Hermann pulls him in for a soft kiss. He grins into it and pulls Hermann closer. The movie was obviously a pretense all around, so he’s glad to cut to the chase. He’s glad to be in the arms of the man he loves and he’s glad to have the night to pretend everything’s normal. When Hermann follows his favorite formula of getting handsy, of reaching for his ass, he’s taken aback and knocks something off of his nightstand.

They both laugh then, and laugh as Hermann presses him into the mattress and continue as they spend the night wrapped up in each other’s arms. For just that night, they pretend the world isn’t half ending around them and it’s enough to hold on to for the tough remaining months.


	4. Chapter 4

_ 2025 _

If Newt is honest with himself, they haven’t functioned as a couple in weeks. Both of them work until they’re exhausted and then collapse in their separate beds at the end of the day. The holidays were almost completely forgotten except for a brief gift exchange and a rather sleepy fumble under the covers of Hermann’s bed. Now the New Year has freshly started and they’re on the verge of a final stand. There isn’t time to be anything more than scientists.

One of them has to say something, though. Just in case things go wrong. Or in case things go right. So in the midst of his really cool revelations about the fact that kaiju are definitely clones and the even cooler idea in the back of his mind that he wants to drift with one, he decides to be the grown-up in his relationship. Just for the once.

“Hermann,” he says, turning to him in the lab. He dramatically snaps off his gloves, which has become a signal that he wants to divert the topic from work. “We need to talk about what’s happening. Before the Marshall actually goes through with this plan.”

Hermann looks up from his papers, then turns to him. “I don’t have time to talk now, Newton.”

“I’m only asking for a few minutes of your time. I just need some clarity before we hurtle towards certain fucking destruction.”

Hermann looks annoyed that he’s even being asked to do this, which only makes Newt more determined to have this conversation.

“I’ve spent the last few years assuming, you know, we weren’t talking about if we’d be together after everything because it was assumed we’d be together. I think that’s a fair assumption to make,” Newt explains. He’s said assumed a few too many times, but it hopefully gets the point across.

“And I have made no plans for the future, because we need to solve the problem in front of us now.”

“Hopes. Dreams. Aspirations. If this plan doesn’t work, we’re going to be unemployed and the world’s still going to end. And that’s the best case scenario, so I have to know.”

“You have to know what?” Hermann asks.

“If you even still love me or if I’ve just become- a habit, a convenience, a conversation you never have to have.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” Hermann turns to face him properly. “I’m not talking to you when you’re in this state.”

“What state?” he shouts. “The state where I’m standing on the precipice of the end of the world with the idiot I’ve spent over a decade of my life in love with and the thing I’m most terrified of is that he doesn’t love me anymore? I think that’s a fair state, Hermann.”

“I find it completely absurd that you’re concerned about this when we’re facing the largest kaiju event in history and helping to complete a mission that is preposterously unlikely to succeed,” Hermann shouts back.

“Just be honest with me for one moment, dude. Lay the truth on me.” He knows, he realizes, that Hermann’s refusal to answer speaks the volumes that his words never will. If he survives this apocalypse, he’ll try to rework his future, to figure out how to re-evaluate his plans.

“Newton, I-”

Of course that moment is interrupted by the lab door opening and they both freeze only for a moment before shifting back into their work demeanors.

 

By the time Newt gets to his room, he’s been physically and mentally to hell and back. And dragged through dirt and guts and God knows what else. And he smells. The world is not ending and he’s feeling both older and younger than he did before. His mind is still racing and he’s feeling the impact of drifting with someone a bit too acutely. Namely, he’s thankful for the sudden urge to wash before he collapses in his bed, because he suspects without Hermann in his head, he’d never have made it to the shower.

After the shower, he’s feeling flushed and warm and still not sure if he’s actually clean enough or if he’ll ever be clean enough. The hallway outside of his room is loud with cheering and conversation, people calling their loved ones or celebrating the victory. It’s daylight and even with the darkness of his room, he’s not conditioned to sleep now. He’s not really conditioned to sleep much at any time after the past few months he’s had. Part of him wants to go out and celebrate with everyone else, but the urge to hide in his room away from others wins out. This is new, and he realizes abruptly where he got this from. 

When there’s a knock at his door, he answers it hesitantly. He’s sure it will be Tendo or someone looking for him, expecting him to join in drinking his good whiskey. He has the rest of his life to do this now, though, and he’s going to make good on that. For some reason, he’s surprised when it’s Hermann on the other side, his own hair still wet from a shower.

The invitation to enter has only been given for a moment when Hermann strides in and takes his face in his hands, kissing him soundly. Newt’s surprised, but only for a moment, and then he’s kissing him back in earnest. They could be dead right now. This could be something they never got the chance to do again and suddenly it seems foolish that Newt would assume they’d never kiss again for any reason but death. 

They break away only once Newt realizes that he’s most definitely trying rather diligently to grope Hermann.

“That’s not me,” Newt defends. “Well, it is me. But that’s a new habit of mine. I think it’s something I just picked up from being sorta in your head.”

“I must be an absolute lech, Newton,” Hermann says, sounding genuinely scandalized.

“It’s nonstop, Hermann, with your wandering hands. I’ve had about half a dozen instances where people tell me I’ve got chalk dust on my ass.” He grins at him. “I’m sorry I’ve been so...emotional these past days.”

“And I apologize for being rather the opposite. It was an unfortunate time to make you doubt my affections for you.”

“It wasn’t just these past days, to be honest,” Newt admits, because he suspects Hermann knows this. “I know we’d said no labels but when you’re with someone for literal years…”

Hermann frowns. “I knew that if I’d given in to calling you my anything, I’d have too much hope and worried I wouldn’t work well knowing what happiness could be before me. I don’t pretend that made anything fair to you. You’ve only ever been an accommodating partner and I’ve been emotionally unavailable and I’ve pushed you away.”

Newt sits on the edge of his bed, patting the space beside him. Hermann follows him down.

“Most of it I really didn’t mind.” He takes Hermann’s hand and lifts it to his mouth, kissing along each individual knuckle. “I really mean it when I say that labels don’t mean much to me. As long as you’re not ashamed of me and you love me.”

“Of course I love you. You’re the only person I’ve ever loved and the only person I ever want to. It’s very difficult to articulate this sometimes, that’s all.”

“So you want to be with me? For good?”

Hermann slips his hand out of Newt’s only to soundly take Newt’s face in his hands again and kiss him, on his mouth, on the tip of his nose, on his forehead.

“After I’ve been in that brilliant mind of yours, it would be impossible to not want to be with you, Newton.”

“So what’re we going to do with our future?”

“Right now, we’re going to sleep for a few hours,” Hermann begins. “And then we’ll join the celebrations outside. Afterwards, we’ll have sex. Hopefully.”

“After that, Hermann. That part is obvious.” Newt reaches for his hand again. “Especially the sex part.”

“We’re going to get you glasses that aren’t broken, fill out the inevitable mountains of paperwork, complete any tasks that the PPDC still has at hand for us.”

Newt narrows his eyes in mock annoyance. He knows Hermann is teasing and it’s likely he actually has thought ahead. For once. Or, he suddenly realizes dimly, Hermann’s known the next steps all along and that’s what’s prevented him from daring to voice them. The fear of the future that won’t come.

It’s here now, though.

 

The hotel they stayed at the night before was seedy and alarmingly outdated. They both slept on top of the covers and Hermann refused to even consider taking his clothes off. They check out as soon as they can and climb back into the car, continuing their journey north.

“You told me to think of this like a honeymoon,” Newt says, fiddling with the car radio as he drives. “But we’re staying at really awful hotels and we’re not married. So I’d just like to clarify this is not the sort of honeymoon I want.”

They’ve been driving for several hours and Newt is starting to become tired, but he knows the next destination is coming up before long and then they’ll rest until it’s time to move on to their next, and final, destination.

“I, at the very least, want your father and my siblings present when we get married, darling,” Hermann defends. 

“I’m just saying, I left some perfectly good kaiju samples behind in Hong Kong so that I can drive you all around America.”

“We’re driving up the coast.”

“You made me go to a beach. In New Jersey.” And they had a great time. Hermann even deemed it a worthy occasion of venturing into the sun and then had the pleasure of complaining half the evening about a sunburn.

Hermann rather dramatically rolls his eyes. “I am the worst partner you could ever imagine, no doubt.”

“I’m going to tell everyone we’re engaged until the lie is so deep, we just decide we’re engaged.”

“Or you could just ask,” Hermann states, pointedly looking out the window. Newt knows damn well that he’s smiling.

Newt reaches across the car, resting his hand on Hermann’s thigh. He squeezes it gently.

“I was planning on bringing up the topic when we reach Boston, but now you’ve spoiled the surprise, babe.”

Hermann turns to him. “I will do my best to forget.”

“You know,” Newt explains as they pull into their next stop, the Bed & Breakfast from so many years ago. He stops the car. “When I saw you at the airport, that very first time, I had this really absurd thought. I just sort of said to myself ‘I’m going to marry that man’’ and here we are.”

“We’re not there yet.”

Newt laughs and takes the keys out of the ignition. “No, but we’re going to get there very soon.”

“Ah. I have an idea before we check-in here.”

“Oh?”

“It involves the backseat of this car.”

He pulls Hermann in for a very thorough kiss. If Newt has his way, they won’t even make it to the backseat.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @ [pendragoff](http://pendragoff.tumblr.com) and twitter @ [newtguzzler](http://twitter.com/newtguzzler)
> 
> Title is from "The Greatest Bastard" by Damien Rice


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